My Sister is Crazy
by Elsadisney
Summary: Did Cinderella's stepfamily really hate her, or was her perception skewed?


She is crazy. Absolutely crazy.

My youngest sister, well, stepsister really, is out of her mind.

Let me explain. My name is Drizella Tremaine, and I am the oldest child in my family. I have two sisters, Anastasia and Cinderella. Cinderella is the youngest.

She isn't really my sister by blood. Her father married my mother when we were young. She seemed like a sweet girl, although her father spoiled her. She would let me ride her horse, which was a birthday present from her father, and she was always asking to play with Anastasia and me.

But that all changed when her father died. She was stricken with grief, which was understandable, but it carried on for far too long. She stopped talking to my sister and me, and barely talked to my mother. Instead she would talk to the animals. And she hated our cat. She would kick him any time she saw him. It got so that my mother would have to punish her if she did anything to him.

But she wasn't crazy at that time. Just very sad. We would hear her crying every night. Anastasia and I, who slept in the same room at that time, would sometimes go for days without sleeping because Cinderella, who was in the room right next to us, would cry hard for hours.

That ended when my mother, after noticing that we were so tired, moved my youngest sister to the attic. We have a tall tower on our house, and at the top is a small bedroom. It was the only place in the house where we couldn't hear her crying. Anastasia moved into Cinderella's old room, and life continued more normally.

But one fateful day, Cinderella was playing outside with us and climbed up a tree. It was a pretty tall tree, but she had climbed it many times before. That day, though, a bird flew out of the tree, and she tried to catch it. I can still see it like it was yesterday. She stood up on a wobbly limb and reached out to catch the bird. She lost her balance and fell to the ground. There was a loud cracking sound, as she had landed on her head, and she started bleeding. Anastasia screamed for our mother, and we called a doctor.

In time, her head healed, and she seemed to be acting normal. She would talk to animals more than before, but we didn't think anything of it at the time. She seemed to think that they talked back, though, and she hadn't before. She would tell us what the birds told her when we ate. We just thought she was pretending, as most children do.

But the first real clue we got that something was very wrong was when, all of a sudden, she acted very different. She was always a kind girl, but she started yelling and screaming at us with no real reason to. She hit and kicked and even bit us. We had to take her up to her room and lock her in so that she would stop.

When we didn't hear her crying and screaming anymore, we let her out. When my mother talked to her about her behavior, she said that she had never done such a thing, and that we had been the ones who had been mean to her.

This happened many times, and it became clear that it wasn't something normal. She really seemed like she didn't remember anything about hitting and screaming.

There were other clues, too. She had always been such a sweet, kind girl, always polite and never violent or mean. But she had started to steal things from us, and she would sometimes play mean jokes on us. She had always hated our cat, but she became even more cruel to him, saying very unkind things to him, and she would hit him with our broom and kick him down the stairs. She had a dog that she would frequently order to attack the cat, and we had to make him sleep in the barn so that he couldn't get to our cat.

We had never had problems with mice before, as the cat always took care of them. But Cinderella would scold him for catching mice now, and soon the house was crawling with mice. We put out traps, but if Cinderella saw a mouse in a trap, she would release it. She talked to the mice too, and she let them in her room.

We would hardly ever let her out of the house, as we had figured out by now that her fall from the tree was what had caused all of this. We really didn't know what to do with her, and would just lock her in her room whenever she went into one of her fits, which were becoming more frequent.

Our mother didn't want us playing with her anymore, as she was quite violent when she had a fit and there was never a warning when it would happen. My mother didn't want us to get hurt by her.

Probably the saddest thing, though, was what she would tell the mice. Many times, we would hear her saying that we were so mean to her and that we didn't even love her. Whenever she would have a fit, afterwards she wouldn't remember that it was her who had done the terrible things and would believe that we had done them to her. Because she had them so often, she really thought we hated her. We didn't know what to do and felt terrible for her.

One day, our mother decided to teach her how to sew. There was always heaps of clothes needing to be patched up, and though Anastasia, my mother, and I always patched them up, we needed another hand.

Mother was a bit worried about letting Cinderella hold a needle, but her worries were soon forgotten. Once Cinderella learned to sew, she would sit there for hours mending the clothes, even more than her share. She loved sewing, and it seemed to calm her. Her fits became less frequent, and we were glad that we had found something that would help her.

She really liked doing all kinds of chores, and we would let her wash the dishes and sweep the floors. We were very happy to see her getting better, and she really seemed to love the chores. She would sing for hours while she swept the floors or did the dishes. She has a beautiful voice, and we always loved hearing her sing.

As she grew older, though, we saw that she was still not quite right. Her body grew, but her mind didn't grow with it, and her mind was like that of an eight-year-old.

All too soon, she was nineteen years old. But we couldn't let her leave us. She would never be able to handle the pressures of adult life. As she had grown up, we had given her more chores, until she was the one doing most of the housework. It was a lot of work, but she seemed very happy and she sang most of the time.

She had grown into a very beautiful young woman, more beautiful than Anastasia and I, and was kind and sweet as she had been before the accident. She barely ever had fits anymore.

One thing we noticed was that she had made little clothes for the many mice that lived in our house. She really loved sewing, and all of her little friends. She had even made little clothes for some of the birds that lived around the place. It was kind of funny to see birds with little caps and vests flying around.

It was a bit strange how the birds weren't afraid of her. They sometimes followed her around, and there were always some in her room in the morning. We were happy that she was happy, though, and didn't think about it too much.

But it wasn't always perfect. Cinderella still would steal things from us from time to time, and sometimes she would play mean jokes. One time she put a mouse under Anastasia's teacup. Anastasia has always been terrified of mice, and she was very unhappy with Cinderella. My mother punished her for it, but it soon was forgotten.

One day, though, Cinderella interrupted our music lesson. My mother would play the piano while Anastasia played the flute and I sang. I'm not very good at singing, but we would practice songs every day.

Cinderella would wash the floors while we had music lessons, and sometimes we heard her singing the songs we were learning. We sometimes asked her if she wanted to join our lessons, but she always declined.

But the day she interrupted our lesson, it was to give us a letter that had been delivered. It was from the palace, and we were all invited to a ball. Cinderella had always wanted to go to the palace, but we couldn't let her. She was so beautiful that surely someone would fall for her, and she only had the mind of an eight-year-old. We let her help us get ready for the ball, though, and she seemed to be happy with that.

In the evening, we were getting ready to leave when she came running down the stairs in a beautiful pink dress. She begged our mother to let her go. I noticed she was wearing one of my necklaces. I told my mother, and she asked Cinderella to take it off.

Then Cinderella had the worst fit she had ever had. She screamed at us, and scratched our arms. She ripped off the necklace, and beads spilled all over the floor. She began tearing her dress apart, and throwing the torn fabric all over the ground.

Then just as suddenly, she stopped. She had a disoriented look on her face. Then she looked down at her dress and frowned. She looked up at us with the saddest look on her face. Then she let out a big sob and ran out to the garden. I saw her crying on a bench.

We hated to leave her like that, but it was getting late. We left the house and got into the carriage to go to the ball. We could still hear her sobs as we rode away.

We almost forgot about it, though, when we entered the palace. It was so big and grand, and there were so many ladies there in all their finery. But the most important thing was the prince. He was so handsome and tall.

Each of us were introduced to him. He didn't seem the least bit happy to be there and occasionally yawned. When it was our turn, we curtsied and smiled at him. He looked bored, but then a smile appeared on his face. We thought he was smiling because of us, but he pushed past us and walked to a beautiful girl in a blue ballgown who had just come in.

They began dancing, and we all watched. We wondered who the mysterious girl was, and where she had come from. The girl looked a bit familiar, but we couldn't place where we had seen her before.

At midnight, the girl suddenly stood up and ran away, losing a shoe on the way. The prince chased after her, but she was too quick and she got in her carriage and rode away. She wasn't found.

The next day, we were awakened by our mother, who was yelling that the prince was trying the lost shoe on every maiden in the land. We quickly got ready and waited for the royal carriage to arrive.

Cinderella didn't come down. We figured she was still upset about the night before. Mother went up to check on her, but came back down quickly when there was a knock at the door.

Both Anastasia and I tried on the shoe, but our feet were just too big. The duke was just about to leave when Cinderella finally came down. She asked if she could try it on and we let her. Strangely enough, it fit perfectly.

They were about to take her when my mother stepped in. She told them that Cinderella could not have been at the ball, and that she wasn't the one. But Cinderella interrupted and said that she had been at the ball, and she was the girl who had danced with the prince.

We asked her where she had gotten the dress and the shoes, and she said something about a fairy godmother. We knew fairy godmothers weren't real, and I suspected that she had stolen the dress from someplace. We told her so, and she got a funny look on her face. She cried, "You think I would steal a dress?"

I told her she had stolen things before.

She then began screaming at us about how we hated her and that we were always mean to us. I was horrified. She was having a fit right in front of the royal duke!

I had to do something. I grabbed hold of her and held her tightly between my arms. She tried to wiggle out, then began biting and scratching me. This went on for a while, and the whole time she was yelling that we never let her do anything. She even screamed that we had ruined her dress the night before, even though she had been the one that had done it.

Then she was quiet. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. She began to cry. I hugged her and tried to comfort her. She pulled away from me and looked at the duke.

Even after that, the duke tried to take her to the prince. My mother tried to explain to him about what had happened so many years ago, but he didn't listen and instead took her to the carriage.

My mother ran out of the house. The carriage was just driving away, and so Anastasia and I hopped into our carriage. My mother snapped the reins, and we were in hot pursuit of the royal carriage.

I called to her. "Cinderella, please come back!" She stuck her head out the window and glared at me. "Please," I cried. "You can do your sewing or talk to your mice."

This time she didn't even look at me. She pulled her head back in, and I could hear her telling the duke that we forced her to do all the chores.

"Oh, Mother, what are we going to do?" I cried.

She responded, "I don't know."

It wasn't the answer I was hoping for. We had to stop her before the prince married her, or there would be no way to get her back. And with all the lies she was telling the duke, things weren't looking good for us.

But Anastasia wasn't going to do nothing. She jumped out of the carriage and grabbed onto the royal carriage. She climbed into the window. A minute later, she came out with Cinderella, holding her around the waist. Cinderella screamed as Anastasia jumped back to our carriage. Anastasia climbed into our carriage and sat down on the seat, still holding Cinderella.

"Why are you doing this?" Cinderella cried.

My mother looked her in the eyes and said, "You aren't okay."

Cinderella looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"When you fell out of the tree many years ago, you hit your head," said my mother. "Something happened to your mind."

"Why do you hate me?" cried Cinderella.

"We don't hate you!" Mother said. "You have fits where you hit and scratch and yell, and afterwards you think we were the ones who did it!"

Cinderella frowned. "That is not true."

My mother said, "Yes it is. Why would I lie to you?"

"Because you hate me!" Cinderella yelled. "Why do you make me do chores all the time?"

"You like doing chores, remember?" my mother said. "You always sing and smile when you do them, and it helps you to not have fits."

Cinderella groaned. "That isn't true!"

"Yes it is," said my mother.

Cinderella glared at her. "Why won't you let me marry the prince?"

"You aren't right in the head," said my mother. "We are taking care of you. The prince doesn't want that responsibility. He just wants a pretty girl to marry!"

Cinderella crossed her arms. "Well I won't believe it. So there."

Then she let out a piercing scream. She punched my mother and kicked Anastasia and me and tried to jump out of the carriage. We held her back and she bit me hard. She left marks, and I raised my hand to hit her.

"No, Drizella!" my mother cried. "Don't hit her. She doesn't know what she is doing."

I put my hand down. She bit me a few times again, then bit Anastasia and my mother. Then she started with the scratching. We always made sure her nails were short so she wouldn't scratch so hard, but this time she dug in. It hurt very bad. She even made me bleed.

Then she stopped. She looked around with the same disoriented look from the night before.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

I'd had enough. "I didn't do that, you did!" I cried. I showed her the bite marks on my arm. "You bit me! You scratched me! You had a fit!"

She went quiet. "No," she said quietly. "No, how could I...?" She looked at the marks. "All this time I was doing this?"

We all nodded.

Then she burst into tears. "I'm sorry!" she cried. "I'm such a bad person! How could I have done this?"

My mother took her hand. "You're not a bad person," she said. "You're just wrong in the head. It isn't your fault."

Cinderella cried harder.

All the while, the carriage had been moving at a fast speed. But it suddenly stopped. The duke had grabbed hold of the horses and stopped them. Then he pulled open the door and said, "Give the girl back."

Cinderella looked up, tears on her face. "I'm not going with you," she said loudly.

"Yes you are," the duke said. "The prince is waiting for you."

Cinderella frowned. "I'm not the girl!" she cried. "I'm not the one who danced with him yesterday!"

"The king orders that the one who fits the shoe will marry the prince. It doesn't matter if you are the girl or not," said the duke. Then he took Cinderella and pulled her outside. "Oh look, we're at the palace."

Cinderella looked at us one last time, then was pulled away. We all hoped that she could convince the prince that she wasn't the one.

We got out of the carriage and followed them into the palace. I saw the prince standing there. When he saw Cinderella, his eyes lit up.

"It's you!" he said.

She took a deep breath. I was really hoping she wouldn't go into a fit. But no, she didn't. She said, "I'm not the one."

He looked confused. "You look just like her," he said.

She shook her head. "No. It's not me. I wasn't at the ball. My fam-" she stopped. "I tore my dress and I didn't go."

"Why would you do that?" he asked.

The duke said, "She told me her stepfamily tore up her dress, and that they make her do all the chores."

Stepfamily. That word sounded so cruel and formal, as if we weren't family but just pretending to be. We never called her stepsister, only sister.

Cinderella shook her head. "I was wrong. I was the one who did it. Please, let me leave."

The prince shook his head. "It has to be you. You look just like her."

Cinderella shook her head again. "Marry any other girl in the kingdom. Just not me!"

The prince smiled. "I won't marry anyone but you."

Cinderella then got very angry. She yelled at the prince. She kicked him and punched him. She tore his suit. She was so angry that the duke ran out to us. "Can you calm her down?" he asked my mother.

She shook her head. "No, no one can calm her when she's like this."

Cinderella was still screaming and attacking. But she stopped after a while. Then she cried, "Why did you do that to me?"

"What do you mean?" asked the prince.

Cinderella glared at him. "You yelled at me and hurt me."

The prince shook his head. "I am not getting myself into this," he said. "I don't want to marry you."

"Well, I don't want to marry you either," Cinderella said. Then she turned around and ran to us. "Please take me home," she said.

Life went on quite normally after that.

So yeah. My sister is crazy. But now she knows that she is crazy, and things are getting better.


End file.
